The Dichotomy of Dallas Winston
by Nanook026
Summary: An exploration of Dallas Winston. After two years in jail, Dally is released to return home. One shot, no OCs, no lemon.  Adult themes, strong language.  Story takes place after events in my first story "Salvation".
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**I really want to thank Spicygurl in particular for this one. She was a tremendous help to me by reading through my initial character sketch of Dallas and provided some very insightful feedback. Without her, this story wouldn't be here. She helped me explore a side of writing I had not even considered trying before. I am very thankful to her and to all my reviewers for taking the time to encourage, review and help me become a better writer. **

**This piece is very different from my last story. It's also pretty crappy. I respectfully request that once you read it through, before posting any reviews or comments, please read the author's notes section. After you have read it, if you feel like rereading it/reviewing it with my explanations in mind, that would be great. Also, I would dearly love to get any con crit on this piece as it's really really outside my normal writing genre/comfort zone. Something very different for me... **

**I posted it all as a one shot, because I just think it makes sense that way.**

**I hope you enjoy it a bit... and don't find it too boring. Please keep in mind this is really my first attempt at writing something like this...**

**DISCLAIMER: The Outsiders aren't mine.  
**

Former prisoner 4578625 struck a match against the zipper of his jacket and brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette. With a sharp intake of breath, he watched as the tobacco ignited into a burning ember, then dropped the match to the ground, forgotten. He sucked greedily at the filter, savouring the flavour as it coursed over his tongue and filled his lungs. Instantly he felt calmer, cooler, more collected. He slung his canvas bag, containing all his worldly possessions, over his shoulder and with the flick of the leather jacket's collar, he was transformed back in to Dallas Winston: JD.

It had been a hot day, even for late August, but the sun was descending, and it took with it not only the glaring light of afternoon but the scorching heat of summer as well. There was a storm brewing in the North, and Dally didn't need the weather man to tell him that once the sun was gone, and the clouds rolled in, it would go from scorching to frigid in no time.

He had gotten good at predicting the weather. He had had too. When he was living on the street, sometimes sleeping on park benches, it was a good skill to have. Even though the weather in Tulsa was different from that of New York, where he had first learned to watch the clouds and guess their intent, he had been able to adapt. He'd always been able to adapt.

Dally took another drag from his cigarette and fingered the crumpled piece of paper in his coat pocket. He had had that piece of paper on him ever since it had been delivered to him in his cell, nearly a month ago. But in another moment his mind wandered from its message, and his eyebrows shot up as his gaze followed the swaying hips of a girl as she crossed the street in front of him.

Ordinarily he wouldn't waste a second look on a girl with a butt like hers, but Dally hadn't exactly seen many girls over the last two years. And the girls he did see, well… They were either the crying, old mothers and grandmother visiting their no-good, incarcerated sons or grandsons, or screaming tramps with a kid on each hip visiting their no-good, incarcerated husbands or boyfriends. In any case, neither were the type to drive a guy crazy with desire.

Dally forced the thought of girls from his mind long enough to hop a bus headed for the East end of town. He cursed the prison bus driver under his breath, for dumping him so far from his own neck of the woods. He had sat on that bus for hours on end just to get back into Tulsa, and now he would have to sit on a bus again for the relatively short ride to the Curtis home.

Dally dumped his bag on the empty seat next to himself and leaned back, taking another long, satisfying haul off his cigarette. He noticed the cautious and at times annoyed looks some of the other passengers gave him, but ignored them. He knew he wasn't suppose to be smoking on the bus, and with a smirk and a toss of his head, he dared them to tell him to put it out.

Dally watched the streets, and put his feet up on the chair in front of him. He was trying to gauge what had changed since he'd been in. It had been just over two years… two long years in hospitals and prisons, and from the looks of it, nothing much was different. Crushing the butt under the heel of his boot he thought: _Girls skirts are a little higher… like those tall boots they're all wearing too… hmmm… new mustang model is pretty tough…_ But these were all superficial changes and he knew it. As soon as the bus began to approach his side of town, the fashions and cars all took on a familiar appearance. On his side of town, the girls' skirts had always been short, and the cars had always been old.

He climbed off the bus and even if he had been blind he would have been able to tell which was to go, just by the way the pavement felt beneath his feet, and the smell in the air.

He crossed the street and past between to run down, empty buildings to a small field behind. The field had been empty two years previous, and it was still empty now. Once he, Ponyboy and Johnny had chased some kids through it, and Dally looked around to see if there were any kids around now to harass. There weren't. Again, his hand felt around his pocket for the familiar texture of the crumpled paper.

He kept on toward the Curtis home, crossing through the same dingy streets. As he rounded a corner, the old vacant lot came into view. He grinned to himself as the memories of football games and sitting around the fire pit drinking flooded back. He wondered if the gang still did that…

One thing he knew for certain, Johnny wasn't sleeping there anymore. In his letters, Johnny had told Dally all about his new job, and living with the Curtis brothers. Things seemed to be going alright for the kid, Dally mused.

Before he knew it he was in front of the Curtis home. By this time the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the clouds were groaning and crackling high above. He flipped his collar back up, a shield from the icy wind which had arisen, and stared through the window.

The lights were on inside and he could hear music playing. He saw the figures of two young men wrestling good naturedly, silhouetted against the old drapes which hung from the windows. He'd recognize the forms anywhere… Sodapop and Steve. It looked like they were wrestling.

Coming into the yard, Dally slapped the fence gate closed behind him and took the steps two at a time. Within a moment he stood at the front door, listening to the raucous of Soda and Steve. He squared his shoulders and pulled the door open. Then, showcasing his toughest swagger, he walked in.

Soda looked up from where he had pinned Steve to the floor.

"Dally!"

Steve took advantage of Soda's distraction and flipped his friend. Then he looked up to see his Dally standing in the living room with a smart-ass look on his face.

"Jesus, Dally! We weren't expecting you until next week!" Steve exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and rushing over to slap his buddy on the back. .

"Ponyboy! Johnny! Dally's here!" Soda's voice betrayed his own pleasure and excitement at seeing his old friend. He scrambled to his feet and slapped Dally on the back vigorously.

Dally dumped his bag on the floor and greeted Soda and Steve, the sound of a door slamming and footsteps running down the hall rang out. A moment later Ponyboy and Johnny entered the room. The latter approached Dally with a shy but beaming expression.

"Hey Dal," Johnny grinned, then looked at the floor as though embarrassed by his own happiness. "We weren't expectin' you until -"

"Next week, I know. How ya doin' Johnny?" Dally gave his friend a good natured punch in the shoulder and smiled. He was amazed at the sheer pleasure it gave him to see Johnny alive. "Look at this guy, would ya?" His comment was only loosely directed toward the others. "He's gotten bigger… and look, he's even started shavin'."

Johnny blushed and kicked at the edge of the rug. He may have been fooling himself, but it seemed that Dally was actually happy to see him.

"Yeah, well… I guess we all must look different." Ponyboy quipped, coming to stand next to Johnny.

"Nah. You still look like a kid." Dally smirked and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it up and sank into the couch. "So what's goin' on around here anyway? I had to take the bus over and it looks like nothing's changed."

The rest of the gang fell into their seats, wherever they could find them.

"Not much. Tim Sheppard's back. Curly too." Steve shrugged, forgetting that Dally hadn't even known they'd been gone.

Dally raised an eyebrow and sucked on his cigarette.

"They both got put away for robbing a liquor store about 8 months ago." Soda explained quickly.

"That's bullshit, man." Dally sat forward in his seat, suddenly on edge. "I get two years for robbin' a drug store, and they get 8 months? Bullshit." The bitterness in his expression could not be ignored.

"6 months. They didn't go to trial until two months after. But the judge said the time they served before trial counted as double…" Ponyboy explained.

Dally shook his head, and a cold, furious look crossed his face. The rest of the gang had long grown accustomed to Dally's fierce expressions, his sudden mood swings - _from cool to lookin' like he was gonna kill someone in 5_, Steve had joked. Something about this particular change made them all trade sideways glances, though. There was something a bit colder, a bit angrier, a bit more desperate in Dally's countenance. Soda shifted nervously in his seat.

"You hungry, Dal?" He quickly changed the subject, rose and moved into the kitchen. "We already ate, but there's plenty left over."

"Nah." Dally shrugged, having regained his tuff exterior during the awkward pause. "I'm gonna head over to Buck's and get a room. Guess I'll get something to eat there." Soda, who had opened the fridge in the mean time, closed it again. "But first I gotta see this garden I heard so much about." He cocked another grin in Johnny's direction, and the younger boy blushed lightly again. "That's all I ever got in his letters. Talk about plants and shit. I wanted to hear about _girls, _man. But all he ever wrote about were _plants_. Thank God you sent me those magazines, Soda. I woulda died of boredom."

"Alright, alright." Johnny shuffled to his feet, and Dally rose from the sofa to join him. The two moved out into the yard, and with great enthusiasm - at least for Johnny -, began to explain to his disinterested friend all the inner workings of his garden. It was when Dally lit his second cigarette off the end of the first, his feet twitching, that Johnny finally broke down. "Gee, Dally. If I'm borin' you-"

"You are boring me, Johnny. I mean, who cares about this stuff, anyway? Christ, this stuff is totally out of it."

"Well-"

"Never mind, never mind. Look, why don't we go hunt up some action, huh? Whaddaya say?" Dally slung one arm over Johnny's shoulders and grinned cockily.

"I-I can't, man. I gotta be at work at 7 tomorrow."

"Be at work? Where? At that flower place?" Dally scoffed. "Come on, you don't take that shit seriously, do ya?"

Johnny shrugged but said nothing. When Johnny refused to answer, Dally reached into his pocket with his free hand and fingered the ball of paper therein. He bit his lip, and released Johnny only so he could suck on his cigarette.

"Come on, Johnny. I just got out a jail. I don't want to be hanging around in_ gardens_ my first night as a free man. Come with me to Buck's and we'll- "

"Oh all right." Johnny relented. He knew he couldn't refuse his friend anything. Johnny also knew that Dally was aware how much he hated going to Buck's. Just because two years had past didn't mean that Johnny's feelings for the place had changed. He trusted that Dally understood that, and also that Dally wouldn't ask if he didn't have a reason. "Let me just go ask Ponyboy-"

Dally cut him off. "Naw, just you an' me, Johnnycake." Was the strange request. Johnny didn't remember the last time, if ever, Dally had asked him to do something just the two of them. He nodded, and followed when Dally headed off down the street.

XXX

Dally tossed his bag on the small single bed and collapsed into the hard wooden chair opposite it. Johnny, meanwhile, stood just inside the doorway, tracing invisible images with the tip of his shoe in the thin layer of dirt over the floor.

"Christ, this place is the same." Dally smiled, and from the corner of his eye Johnny could tell his friend was well satisfied with that fact.

"Yeah," Johnny was not so enamoured.

Dally opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a knock on the door frame. Without waiting to be invited, Tim Sheppard came in. Dally had known Tim Sheppard for years, and during that time he had never seen Tim's face appear with an expression remotely nearing warmth. The man wore a scar and a scowl with conviction, and never wavered from his undying dedication to hoodlumism. From the corner of his eye, Dally saw Johnny shift nervously, never lifting his gaze from the floor.

Dally mused that Johnny and Tim could not have been more dissimilar. To Dally, the two faces - though one confident yet severe, the other fragile yet optimistic - read in much the same way. Dally saw in both a countenance akin to his own. Both were faces of allies, of friends who could be relied upon.

Dally rose from his seat, and crossed the room to greet Tim.

"So you're out." was Tim's astute observation.

"Yeah, and I heard you too. I guess, uh, congratulations are in order." Dally smirked. Tim nodded, the closest he ever came to a smile.

"Curly an' me, they sent us to the cooler for holdin' up that liquor store at the corner of 12th and Freemont." Tim stood up straighter as he spoke, almost as though he were proud of this fact.

"Yeah, 6 months. I could do that in my sleep. Actually, I think I did." Dally scoffed, trying to get under Tim's skin. It didn't work.

Tim finally turned his attention to Johnny, who was still studying the floor.

"Hey, kid." He nodded. Johnny had only become worth noticing to Tim after he had killed Bob Sheldon, and had ever after had a small inkling of respect for him. He had heard someone say once that Johnny was more ashamed than proud, that Johnny was torn up over the death. But this concept seemed to alien to Tim, so beyond his comprehension, that he simply shrugged it off. It was impossible for a greaser to regret such an action.

Johnny acknowledged Tim's overture with a nod, but kept his eyes to the floor. Tim always made him feel uneasy. Everything about Tim bothered Johnny. The way he bragged about the people he hurt, the piercing look in his eyes, the way each glance meticulously and efficiently sized one up, categorizing the weaknesses to be exploited. Johnny always felt naked before Tim, and it made him nauseous to know that on some level he had Tim's respect. Even the near matching scars on their faces was enough to give Johnny the chills.

"I ain't seen you around here a while." Tim was still talking to him, and Johnny knew he would have to respond. He lifted his head, but still tried to avoid Tim's cold, dead eyes.

"Yeah, well… I guess with Dally in jail an' all, I didn't have much reason to be around."

"True enough." Tim nodded, apparently satisfied with the response. He turned back to Dally, and Johnny tuned out their version of small talk.

Though not hearing the words which passed between them, Johnny watched the two, as though expecting the mystery of their friendship to be reveal itself in their bodylanguage. Though Johnny had idolized Dally since the day they had first met, one thing he had never been able to fathom was Dally's friendship with Tim Sheppard.

Dally was getting antsy standing in the room talking. He craved some action, and now that he was free and had his two best friends at his side, he was ready to go dig it up.

"Come on'," He said, leaving his bag and fingering the crumpled ball of paper in his pocket. "Let's get outta here."

"Where you wanna go?" Tim asked, following Dally out the door, Johnny two steps behind.

"I dunno. The Dingo?"

"We just got here." Johnny complained as he fell into stride with his companions.

"Yeah, but nothing's goin' on here for another few hours. We can find lots of trouble before then."

"I ain't lookin' for trouble, Dal." Johnny said suddenly, and Dallas shot his friend a sideways glance. He didn't respond though.

As they were leaving the bar, a familiar figure stepped directly in their path. Johnny nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at the girl in front of them. Tim crossed his arms, staring unabashed.

Dally grinned to himself, for though he could not see either Tim or Johnny's faces, he knew very well what looks would be crossing them. In his mind's eye he could see Johnny staring anywhere but at Sylvia, who now stood before them flirtatiously posing. Johnny could never handle being directly confronted with sex - which is what Sylvia was selling now. Tim, he would imagine, as staring her up and down, as though she were an object whose sole purpose was to entertain him. Dally instantly fell into his tuffest pose before her, neither meeting her gaze nor looking away.

"Hey Dally. I was startin' to wonder when you were getting' out." Sylvia smiled coquettishly, and twirled a lock of her long, brown hair through her fingertips.

"Yeah, well, I guess now you know." Dally shrugged, looking bored. Sylvia was not deterred. She stepped closer and ran her fingers along the sleeve of Dally's leather jacket. He watched each finger tip as it crawled gently up his arm, resting just at his shoulder.

"I've been… waiting." She smiled, batting her eyelashes coyly. Dally shrugged her hand off, and just stared at her for a moment before speaking. He knew his complete disinterest, his expression void of emotion, made her ill at ease, for her gaze faltered under his.

"Well, I got news for you doll." He smiled, lighting another cigarette. He took a long drag off it and let his bored expression wander around the room before continuing. "If you're waitin' for me, you're gonna be waiting for a long time." He let the first breath of smoke puff from his lips and break against her face, then laughed to himself. Shoving her aside he continued out the door, impervious to the insults she slung at his back.

XXX

Not much had changed at The Dingo. Tim became antsy as they made their way from car to car, chatting up whatever familiar faces they found along the way. He never understood why people thought this sort of thing was fun. He felt it beneath him to be following Dallas Winston and his tag-along Johnny Cade through the parking lot. He was the leader of his own gang, and people came to see him, not the other way around.

He leaned against an old chevy, and watched Dally trying to pick up the girls inside. Johnny was fidgeting in the background as usual, avoiding looking at anything or anyone, even by accident. Tim still couldn't wrap his head around Johnny Cade.

He remembered all the times he'd seen Johnny around, usually half beaten and half defeated, but one memory struck him in particular. He had been parked at the DX, getting a fill-up, when he saw Johnny Cade leaving with Ponyboy Curtis. Johnny had a black eye, and he walked with a limp and a hand pressed to his side. Tim recognized the signs in Johnny. He had felt that father-inflicted pain before too, and he knew Dally had as well. Neither boy had seen him, though, and he hadn't called to them. As they walked up the street, they had stopped at a chain link fence not far from the DX, and stared for a good, long 15 minutes in absolute quiet. Tim had followed their gaze, but could only see the rooftops, the sun setting behind them. He had never been able to figure out what it was that had so enraptured the two boys, but he had an uneasy suspicion that it had been right in front of him the entire time.

That was often how he felt around Johnny Cade. That he was always looking at something which Tim could never see.

He never would have believed that Johnny were capable of killing a Soc. Even now, as he watched Johnny fidger nervously, his fists anchored in his pockets, part of him found it hard to accept. It was impossible to reconcile this young man, frightened of his own shadow, with the person who had killed Bob Sheldon, and who had run into a burning church to rescue a bunch of little kids. But he had to accept it as truth, as fact. Johnny had the scars to prove it. And so he respected Johnny, even if he didn't understand him.

Tim's gaze wandered past Johnny, and found Jason Birtwell standing in a group of his friends. Jason had taken a few shots at Curly the other night, accusing the younger Sheppard of cheating at a poker game. Curly had come home carried by his friends, unconscious and with cracked ribs.

Dally, momentarily distracted from the girls in the chevy, watched as, without a word Tim marched across the dusty parking lot and caught Jason Birtwell unaware with a powerful right hook. He watched Jason go down and Jason's friends tried to pull Tim off. It was no use though. When someone finally did get a firm grip on Tim, he just turned around and started punching them too. Without a second thought, Dally rushed to join the fray.

It wasn't long before the sound of sirens in the distance broke the fight up, however. Threats were thrown as each group headed back to their respective cars.

"Come on, Tim." Dally urged, though his voice was noticeably missing any element of panic. "I ain't lookin' to get tossed in the cooler my first night out of jail." They all climbed in Tim's car and took off with tires spinning.

Dally was looking out the window, to be sure the cops weren't after them. He was breathing heavily and could taste his own blood on his lower lip. He didn't question why Tim had jumped Jason Birtwell. It didn't matter why it had been done. What got under Dally's skin was that Tim hadn't given him any advanced warning.

"What the fuck didn't you tell me you were gonna do that, huh?" He angrily smacked Tim's arm as he turned to him, eyes blazing. "You should have warned me you were gonna do something stupid like that."

"You worried about _Jason Birtwell_, Dally? Prison for two years made you soft or something;?" Tim snarled. "That son of a bitch kicked the shit out o' Curly two nights ago."

"You shoulda told me you were goin' after them." Dally shoved Tim harder this time, and Johnny gulped in the backseat as they swerved into oncoming traffic, car horns blaring and tires screeching all around them.

"You turnin' pussy on me, Winston? That what they did to you in there? Turned you pussy?" Tim pulled into the first available parking lot he found. It was a grocery store.

Johnny was shaking badly enough at that point, but what Dally did next sent his body into tremors he had never before experienced. Without another word, Dally punched Tim square in the nose. Blood gushed from the wound, but it only made Tim snarl. Both jumped from the car, and by the time Johnny climbed out, they were already in the midst of the worst row he'd ever seen them in.

Johnny had never seen Tim so fired up. Truthfully, he had never seen Tim with anything but cold hatred in his eyes, until now. Tim was ferocious, teeth bared, eyes wild. But his fiery attacks were brushed off as Dally methodically pummelled Tim over and over, his eyes glazed over as though his mind were somewhere else. The burning anger Johnny had seen only moments earlier was gone, replaced by an empty stare.

When they were both bruised and bloody, they fell apart. Tim cursed and got back in his car, pulling off with a squeal of the tires. Johnny watched as Dally sat on the pavement and breathed heavily. After a few moments he pulled off his leather jacket and tenderly touched his ribs.

Johnny approached slowly, first moving toward the coat, gathering it in his arms. As he did, a crumpled up piece of paper fell from the pocket. He picked it up and without thinking, unfolded it and read the contents.

When he had finished, he looked up, his eyes wide. Dally sat on the pavement, still breathing heavily, fingers still gingerly exploring swelling ribs, blood running from his lip. It was something in the way Dally's eyebrows furrowed, something in the way his cheeks tightened as his fingers brushed too hard against the injured body. Something in these small expressions reminded Johnny of a child. Perhaps it was the familiarity of the whole thing. Perhaps he recognized it so well in Dally, because he recognized it in himself.

Dally let his hands fall between his legs and stared at the pavement in front of him. Johnny moved closer and slung the jacket over his friend's shoulders.

"I'm sorry." He said, moving away. Dally didn't answer, but waited for Johnny to continue. "About your dad."

Dally turned his head only slightly, casting Johnny a sideways glance. "What'd you say?"

Johnny handed him the wrinkled paper, and Dally snatched it from his hands.

"Where'd you get this, huh?" He cried, pulling his jacket on and trying to hide the wince that crossed his face. "Did I say you could go through my pockets?"

"It-It fell out, Dally. I-I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't mean to what, huh? Snoop into my business?"

"No, I-I just saw it and - I'm real sorry, Dal. Honest." Johnny wasn't sure if he was apologizing for looking at Dally's telegram, or for the loss of his father. Both, maybe.

Dally had risen to his feet, the expression on his face transformed from fury to calm.

"It's OK, Johnny." He shrugged. "I didn't care about the old man, anyway." He wiped the blood from his mouth on the back of his hand, and spat.

"Gee, Dal. Are you sure you're OK? I mean, he was your dad. If my dad died I'd-I'd-"

"Throw a party? Shit, Johnny, if your dad died and you didn't throw a party I'd think there was something wrong with you."

"Well, no, Dal. I guess, part of me… would be sad."

Dally shook his head and scoffed, but he avoided Johnny's gaze. "You're crazy, kid. You think I care if my ol' man dies and I have to hear about it through a fucking telegram in prison? You're definitely crazy. You gotta get tough, Johnny."

Johnny didn't say anything. But the falter in Dally's voice made his recommendation unconvincing. Johnny sat down on the ground next to his friend, but didn't say anything. He was lost in his own thoughts. It didn't take long for Dally to continue though.

"You gotta get tough, Johnny. You of all people, you know what it's like. You know what it feels like to have a mom and dad who don't care if you're - if you're dead in a ditch somewhere. None of the other guys know that. Not like we do. But you just don't… you walk around all dreamy and jumpy and that's why you get hurt! That's why you get hurt, Johnny! If you were tough like me, you wouldn't get hurt." Dally wiped the blood dripping from his nose, his voice was become hysterical, and he refused to meet Johnny's gaze.

"Dally…" He said, but Dally didn't seem to hear him. Dally wouldn't look at him. He just continued speaking.

"You know, Johnny. You know what it's like… but you just keep your head in the fucking clouds. Like, no matter what they do to you -"

"What who do to you? Do what?"

"No matter what they do to you … in jail, or what happens on the streets. You just keep your head in the clouds or in your stupid garden and it's like everything's always alright. Well it isn't always alright, Johnny. Sometimes you gotta fight if you want anything good in this crummy world."

"There's still lots good in this world, Dally." Johnny let his hand fall on Dally's shoulder, a vain effort to comfort. "I know it gets rough sometimes but-"

"You _don't_ know, Johnny. You know some things, but you've never been to jail. You don't know what happens in there. But maybe you should go. Maybe if you did go, you'd toughen up and then you wouldn't get hurt anymore. I used to be like you, always with my head somewhere else. Always lookin' at bees, man. _Bees._ That was my thing. That was why I hit the road… I couldn't see the enough bees in the city. And you know what all that and dreaming got me? It got me a drunk dad who used to beat the hell outta me, it got me running with gangs… it got me jail and… and everything that came with _that_. But I toughened up, Johnny. I changed, and now I don't get hurt. Not like you."

Johnny swallowed hard. He didn't know what to say. He had never seen Dally like this, and it frightened him. Dally was always so cool, so relaxed. Nothing ever bothered him. But this Dally sitting next to him in the middle of the empty grocery store parking lot was a different person. Johnny tried to imagine Dally as a child, running through overgrown vacant lots trying to catch glimpses of bees. It was surprisingly easy to imagine. But it made it that much harder to watch the Dallas Winston who now sat next to him now. The one to whom horrible things had happened, the one who struggled for survival.

"I'm not the one hurting now, Dally." He said gently.

Dally turned to look at him, and Johnny was amazed that there were still no tears on Dally's face. If rolls were reversed, he knew he'd be crying. But not Dally. Never Dally.

"Shit, Johnny. I'm not hurting either. You think I care that my old man died in the street outside some dumpy bar?"

"Yes."

"Well, I don't, Johnny. I don't care." Dally pulled himself to his feet and grabbed his jacket. As if to make a point, he picked up the crumpled telegram and launched it into the darkness.

XXX

Johnny bit his lower lip and scratched at a bug bite on the back of his neck. He let the rose petals slide back from between his fingers, and stood upright, reflecting on what he had just seen. _Ladybugs. _He determined. _Ladybugs will take care of those aphids._

Dally saw Johnny kneeling over some roses and grinned to himself. Without a second though, he climbed the chain link fence separating the Curtis' yard from the sidewalk and slid over the other side.

"Hey, Johnny, man." He said, swaggering up behind his friend. Johnny turned from where he was kneeling in the dirt and looked up.

"Hey Dal." He grinned. Instantly the memory of their last parting popped into his mind. After leaving the parking lot, they had headed back over to Buck's where they met up with Tim Sheppard again and some of his friends. Just as they had a thousand times before, Dally and Tim had gotten on as though they hadn't come to blows only hours earlier. Johnny had drifted into the shadows and watched as Dally let loose and partied into the small hours.

"You and Pony wanna hit a movie tonight?" Dal asked, pulling out a smoke and sparking it up. Johnny rose from his position and started packing up his stuff.

"Sure. Just let me go get Ponyboy." He rose from the ground and went inside. After changing into something not covered in dirt, and calling to Ponyboy, Johnny came back out on the porch. Dally was just steps below him, bent over the roses staring at something intently. Without saying a word, Johnny leaned over the rail to get a closer look. His eyes followed Dally's gaze to where it rested in the center of a particularly plump blossom. There, writhing in the ecstasy of indulgence was a thick, fat honey bee, buzzing away contentedly.


	2. AUTHOR'S NOTES

AUTHOR'S NOTES on THE DICHOTOMY OF DALLAS WINSTON

- So, first of all, I just want to apologize for the crap you have just read.

-Second, I would like to offer an explanation as to why I bothered to post the "story", even though I think it's complete crap.

I would really appreciate any feedback on this story - particularly constructive criticism. You can be harsh, too, because I already think it's shit, so I won't get offended if you think it's shit too. I do respond well to the shit sandwich method of constructive criticism, though. You know, the "this part was good… but this part was absolute crap… but this part was pretty good.". I am a firm believer in the shit sandwich.

Anyway, the reason I posted this story even though I'm not proud of it exactly, is because I am proud of elements of it, and I am eager to improve my writing and expand on the types of things I write about. I

really feel I can't do this without some constructive criticism, though, and since the only person I have to go to for constructive criticism on my writing has never read The Outsiders and doesn't really get the audience I'm aiming for, his input was minimal - though what input I was given was excellent and very much appreciated.

I was really writing outside my comfort zone on this one. I wanted to do something very different, to flex different literary muscle, so to speak, and attempt something a bit deeper than in Salvation - my first story - but still along the lines of working on characters. Dally was never one of my favourite characters from the book, but he is a very interesting character to me, and I'll tell you why. I was always captured by the line in the book where Dally says to Johnny:

"I just don't want to see that happen to you like it did to me" (or whatever it was).

While this obviously implies that Dally identifies with Johnny on some level - perhaps vulnerability? Optimism?, it also implies that whatever good he saw in Johnny and in himself, he felt was lost or beaten out by his circumstances in life. This is a pretty common thing in both literature and in real life, so that in itself didn't really capture my attention. What did capture my attention about it was that Dally was aware that he had at some point been like Johnny, and in addition to this realization, he also seems to regret having lost that part of himself. Ironically, he didn't lose that part of himself entirely, because if he had, he never would have ended up cracking after Johnny died, and ending up dead himself. At least so I think.

Since I changed the events of the book to make both Dally and Johnny live, I was able to keep this small piece of Dally alive. Even though it is not apparent, it is still, I feel, a defining characteristic of his.

This sketch was intended to do a few things. Primarily, it was intended to explore the different sides of Dally. I chose to do this by setting up mirror characters - that is characters who themselves are seemingly one-dimensional, for the express purpose of reflecting and thus clarifying that characteristic in the primary character or protagonist. In this case, the protagonist - for lack of a better word - was Dally, and the mirror characters were Tim and Johnny.

Tim and Johnny, as representatives of different aspects of Dally, were not intended to ever be in direct conflict with one another, but more in competition with one another - though one clearly has the upper hand. I took it a step further, though, and tried to set it up so that within Johnny and Tim, conflicting characteristics did exist, thus making both characters slightly more complex, and thus adding another dimension to Dally himself. I will illustrate:

Part of my inspiration, as always when to do with the Outsiders, came from a Robert Frost poem. In this case, Fire and Ice:

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favour fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

This is the outwardly appearing Dally, and what Tim Sheppard is supposed to represent. I think the poem speaks for itself, but basically, I was trying to illustrate that both forces are destructive, but powerful. Dally uses passion and ice equally, and always to hurt. It is his defence and coping mechanisms of choice wrapped into one. Yet, superficially, fire and ice are in conflict.

I believe that the character of Tim - from the book The Outsiders and also from That was then… this is now was defined by these characteristics, and thus made an excellent mirror character for these aspects of Dally.

Johnny as a mirror character is to represent the Innocence and experience (I know, I know… it was William Blake and not Robert Frost who wrote Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience… I swear that only occurred to me after I thought this out).

Dally identifies with Johnny only partly because of their shared history of domestic violence, but primarily because of the innocence, the love and belief that beauty still exists in the world. Johnny represents the internal conflict between experience and innocence. How can one who has seen so such violence, and who has suffered so much, continue to believe there is good in the world?

I think I might explore the concept of faith a bit more later…

For now, though, this is what Johnny is intended to mirror in Dally. Though the fire and ice are outwardly apparent, it is this internal conflict of innocence and faith vs. experience which is the greater conflict within him.

The bit about the bees was suppose to be a representation of this child-like innocence and fascination with the beauty of life and nature and thus the world. The final scene where Dally is watching the bees while waiting for his friends is suppose to show that this is still alive in him.

One of the secondary themes of the story is the idea that "The more things change, the more they stay the same". I tried to illustrate that at the beginning of the story - most notably in the paragraph where Dally is thinking about how short the girls' skirts have gotten, and how he feels about the new model of mustang… and then in his neighbourhood, the girls' skirts have always been short, and there are no new models of mustangs.

The purpose of this was to show that even though Dally is aware somewhat of this internal conflict, he does nothing to change it. At the end of the story, he acts as though nothing has happened, but he cannot give up his affection for bees. He cannot cut off that part of himself, he cannot let it completely die. Therefore, nothing really changes. Though he's been to jail and his father has died - both major events in a person's life - no inner part of Dally has won the battle or the war, and he continues living on as he has.

FAILURES:

I'm not sure the reader is even able to get any of what I was attempting to put on paper out of it. This is why I didn't offer this explanation before reading the story. I want to know if you completely missed it (presumably because I didn't do a good enough job getting the point across). I would also like to know if you can now see that in the story, after my intentions have been explained.

I found it very difficult to get the right voice/perspective. I started writing from Dally's perspective, third person, but found myself drifting to Johnny and Tim. I really struggled with the best way to write it, and even considered writing it in first person or from the perspective of a fourth person as a narrator and observer - like maybe Ponyboy. Ultimately I tried to keep it from Dally's, third person perspective, though. Ultimately I think this is one of the major weaknesses of the story, and that it makes the entire thing lack flow.

I'm not sure I illustrated clearly enough the distinctions between the fire and ice aspects of Tim's character. Perhaps if I spent more time illustrating that, than I did on describing Tim and Dally's relationship and interactions, it would be better.

Same thing with Johnny, innocence and experience.

I think I should maybe go into a bit more detail about Dally's experiences in prison… though I purposefully avoided talking about it too much.

As usual, I think I started out strong and that the strength of the story petered out toward the end. I think this is when I really started to struggle with it

Those items mentioned above are the ones I would particularly interested in getting some feedback on.

Please note that this story has had minimal editing. A friend of mine who is a fiction writer read it through for me, and made some suggestions, but he has never read The Outsiders, and he is unfamiliar with the story and the audience, so his input was minimal though very helpful and very much appreciated.

I'm mentally exhausted over this one, so I'm going to be taking a long break from it before/if I go back to it. I think the ideas, though, and I may try to either re-write this story, or simply use the ideas in it for another story later on. I'm sure this one is salvageable.


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